


An Assurance of Things Hoped For

by sarahgene12



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Emotional Infidelity, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Post-Canon, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: Robert Lewis is leaving on holiday for six months. With Laura. It should be a time of great excitement on his part but as his last case closes, he can't help but feel he's leaving something important behind.





	1. Endings

“Any volunteers then?”

Lewis looked first to Hathaway, then to Maddox. Both stared into the rippling depths of the city pool; neither looked particularly eager to take a swim. He sighed. 

“Oh c’mon, it’s not that bad. You do this right and you’ll be up and out of there before you’ve got much of a chance to get too wet!”

Hathaway smirked. “I don’t see you volunteering to take the plunge, Robert. Not a strong swimmer, are we?” The young Inspector was fiddling half-heartedly with the knot of his tie.   
“What, and deprive you two the chance for a good learning experience? Not on your life. Besides, I might hurt me back.”

Maddox scoffed. She quickly disguised it as a slight cough when her boss raised an eyebrow. 

Hathaway, however, wasn’t having it. “Oh I’m sorry, Robert, I forgot you were such a broken old thing. How monstrous of me to even suggest—”

“Alright, now, enough of that,” Lewis scowled. “I understand you’re your own boss now. Forgive me for even suggesting—what are you doing?”

Hathaway finished rolling his tie into a neat ball before answering. “Doing my duty. No one else was going to do it, and I am the highest ranking officer here, as you said. Short answer: sparing your back.”

Lewis could have sworn Hathaway winked at him as he said this last. James stepped neatly out of his shoes, stuffed his socks down inside, and began unbuttoning his shirt. 

Maddox coughed again, this time a little more loudly. “Um, sir, should I—should I go? Only—”  
“You might go and fetch our inspector a towel, then, Lizzie,” offered Lewis. She nodded quickly and fled without another word. 

Hathaway pulled his shirt off and folded it neatly, placing it carefully on top of his shoes. Without looking again at Lewis, he then stepped deftly out of his trousers and arranged them just the same. A moment later, he stepped to the edge of the pool. 

Lewis stared. Inspector Hathaway had his back turned to his old boss, and because of this… well. Whatever it was, it was written in Latin. He was almost positive. Looping cursive letters filled the space between Hathaway’s hips, snaking across his lower back in black ink, only slightly obscured by the waistband of his pants.

Seconds later, Hathaway dove. 

While he was still under the water, Maddox returned, clutching two towels. “Alright, sir?”  
Lewis nodded. “Yeah, Sergeant. I’m alright.” He hesitated. “Lizzie?”

“Yes sir?”

“Sort of a funny thing. Did you know about Hathaway, I mean, about any—”  
Maddox grinned, her eyes flitting to James as he surfaced. “What, you mean the tattoo?” 

Lewis nodded, concentrating hard on appearing casual. “Well, yeah! I mean, he’s never struck me as particularly wild, or anything like that. How long have you known?”

Lizzie Maddox had been wary of her inspector’s predecessor from the moment he was pulled out of retirement. There had even been moments she’d been just a little bit intimidated. 

Seeing him now, sputtering his words and appearing very much like a school marm who’d found dirty pictures in her favorite pupil’s desk, she couldn’t help but laugh. The sound echoed hugely in the tiled room and surprised both of them. 

“Got it!”   
James held a squashed bullet between his fingers for a moment so his colleagues could see, before handing it to the awaiting forensics team. 

Their current case, and why the three of them and a whole gaggle of forensic scientists and police officers were milling around a public pool, depended on this one bullet. After four baffling days of searching, CCTV had picked up on a hooded figure here, late at night, firing a gun into the pool.

Whomever it was had jumped into the water, presumably to retrieve the bullet, but was interrupted by the alarms. So they had fled, and the Oxfordshire force was left with a mashed bullet, a shattered pool tile, and more questions than answers. 

Lewis watched, still incredulous, as Hathaway hoisted himself out of the water, giving both he and Maddox another look at the tattoo.   
“What does it say, d’you think?” he asked, feeling a jump in his chest at the sight of his young inspector in sopping wet shorts. 

Maddox shrugged, struggling to hide her cheeky grin. “Dunno, it’s Latin, isn’t it? It would be, on him. Think he got it on his last birthday.” She handed James the towels as he rejoined them. 

“Have a nice swim, sir?”   
James gave her a doleful look. “Careful, Sergeant. You’re very lucky you’re not the dripping wet one, I outrank you.”

“So you keep reminding us, Inspector,” Lewis quipped. “Is that bullet from the same gun, d’you think? Talbot’s?”

Hathaway made a noise of uncertainty, bending over to retrieve his clothes. “Could be. Have to wait for ballistics to pick that up. Meanwhile, I’d very much like to, um, get myself decent again, Robert are you alright?”

Lewis started, knocked out of his state by Maddox’s hand on his shoulder. Both she and James were staring at him. 

“Blimey, yes, I’m alright! Don’t knock me about like that, you’ll give an old man a heart attack.” His voice was shaking. “T-that’s good, James. Very good.”

James followed the old inspector’s line of sight. “Oh.”

“Bloody hell! When did you get those done?” asked Maddox, very nearly shrieking.   
Hathaway tucked his bundle of clothes closer to his chest. A hot line of pink was spreading fast along the high arches of his cheeks. Lewis couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen the young inspector blush. 

“I’ve got to—erm—right.” Hathaway turned promptly, making a beeline for the changing rooms. Lewis watched him, staring at the thick black lines of ink which rocked back and forth with every step. 

Maddox looked gleeful. “Right! What a day! It’s not often you find out your boss is a bit punky, is it?” 

Lewis frowned at her. “I wouldn’t know. Is that what they’re calling punk nowadays? What happened to dyeing your hair green like normal people?”

Lizzie only shook her head. “Who’s to say tattoos and piercings aren’t normal, then?”  
“It’d be one thing if he’s got his ears punched through with holes but the—well, you know.” Lewis made a vague sort of gesture at his chest, feeling his own face grow a bit warm.

Maddox was giggling, glad she didn’t answer to Robert professionally. He was so obviously uncomfortable with what they’d seen, and she found it seriously funny.   
“It’s not a dirty word, Robbie. They’re called nipples.” 

Lewis’s face went a funny sort of color, sort of like an overripe plum; he pushed through the double doors which had led them to the pool, leaving Maddox behind to collapse with laughter, once he was out of earshot. 

 

His last case had been maddeningly dull. Domestic murder.

No ancient clues. No references to Shakespeare, Chaucer, or even the Daily Mail. MAN KILLS WIFE TO BE WITH 23 YEAR OLD CAM GIRL. Boring. Predictable, old as time, and a little depressing to be the last job they would ever work together. 

It occurred to him while questions were asked and names were tossed about and accusations were made that this was the last coffee bought at 3am, the last cigarette tossed thoughtlessly underfoot. The last time he reminded James to eat, to try e-cigarettes, to sleep.   
To take care of himself, please, because whether he knew it or not there was someone who cared about him, who wanted him alive and well and knocking the socks off the rest of the   
department by the time he got back. The day they booked the husband was the last time they shared a pint after a case had been all wrapped up. He spoke not a word of this to James because he was afraid to be laughed at, afraid he’d be questioned and realized. Found out. 

Paperwork was done and filed and the dust brushed off suit jackets and begrudgingly they were reminded that tonight was Innocent’s farewell do, that they were to attend and say nice things and pretend that he wasn’t going too and no one was saying it. Tell funny anecdotes and raise glasses and be acceptably sociable until you could make your excuses. Go home and get drunk on the lie-low. Try not to think that you mightn’t ever share a taxi again after too many pints and you might never be that close again before tomorrow came and you were miles and miles away. Clean yourself up before you go. Keep it casual. 

He’d never used the station showers before because he knew they had to be rank.   
He was right. But there’d been a spot of running involved and he was old and gave off a funny smell when he ran. He never lived far from the station anymore so of course there was a spare suit hanging on the coat rack. Not his best but it would do for a send-off. He thought nothing of it and tried to be discreet about his destination, though he probably dinged the whole office on his walk-through. 

 

Hathaway stood in front of the mirror. He splashed his face with cold water, rubbing at his skin with a wad of paper towels until his face was scratched bright red. 

His moment of being found out at the pool a couple of hours before had been all he’d thought about up until this point in the day. He’d forgotten he’d never told Maddox about the piercings (she knew about the tattoo), but he’d never considered the possibility that Robert might see them.   
He stared at his reflection, and raised a hand to his chest, fiddling with one of the silver loops. They were small enough to go unnoticed under a tshirt, even most of the shirts he wore to work. He hadn’t even thought of them before stripping off to jump into the water. Just another impulse decision, made more and more frequently lately whenever he felt stuck, or bored. Or drunk, which while he’d never admit it outside of his and Lizzie’s frequent late-night conversations, was a state he found himself in a little too often. 

He was fumbling in the overnight bag he’d brought his change of clothes in when one of the showers behind him switched on.  
“Hello? Is someone there?” A stupid question.   
“James?”   
“Robert?”  
“Yeah, it’s me! I’m just popping in for a shower before the bash.”  
Hathaway gave a dour look to his reflection in the mirror. He busied himself with fishing a t-shirt out of his bag, ignoring the funny feeling in his stomach. 

“Will you need a lift there, then?” He offered, pulling the shirt over his head. He kicked off his dress shoes, undid the buckle of his trousers, and slipped out of them, all the while conscious of Lewis’ presence.   
“Nah, that’s alright. I’m planning on taking a cab, just in case I get a bit blathered. Can you make your own way in?” 

Socks. Jeans. Shoes. Jumper.   
“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.” Hathaway tried to keep his voice light. Truthfully he had no interest in Innocent’s farewell party. It was going to be a lot of empty affections and toasts, a load of people acting as though they hadn’t dreaded the woman’s coming to Thames Valley in the first place. Lizzie would be there with Tony, so at least there was one small corner for him to hide in. 

“Right, well I’ve finished. Meet you there later, Robert?”   
“Ay, you will! Let Laura know I’m nearly done here on your way out, will you?”   
“Yes, sir.”   
Hathaway collected his bag, balling his suit up and shoving it inside; probably most of the guests from the station were going straight from work, and would still be wearing their copper digs. He didn’t care, and he doubted very much that Innocent would either. The woman liked her wine. 

Behind him, Robbie switched the water off. Hathaway watched him snatch a towel from over the curtain, and watched the shadow wriggle and bend as the old Inspector toweled himself off.   
“You still here, James?”   
Hathaway started; he inhaled sharply, catching himself off guard and throwing himself into a coughing fit.   
“Y-yes, yes I’m h-here! Sorry! I was just— leaving!”   
Eyes watering, cheeks burning, Hathaway fled the bathroom, leaving Robert Lewis extraordinarily confused. 

 

The party was already well underway by the time Lewis arrived, with Laura on his arm. Nearly everyone from the station had turned out, as well as a good handful of others he didn’t recognize. Obviously, there hadn’t been any kind of set dress code: looking around, he saw bodies wrapped in everything from glittering evening wear to joggers and t-shirts.

“Oi! Lizzie!” 

Lizzie Maddox was one of the number particularly dolled up for the evening. She answered Robbie’s wave and began pushing her way through the crowd, holding her drink up over her head. 

Laura tapped his shoulder. “What, am I not enough for you? You’ve got to have a woman on each arm?” 

Lewis grinned. “It’s why I retired, isn’t that how it works?”   
Laura shook her head, and laughed.   
“Evenin’, boss! Glad you could make it!” Lizzie lifted her glass to them both before taking another sip. 

“Evening yourself, Liz! Don’t you look smashing? Look at that!”   
Maddox beamed. “To be honest I feel a bit flashy, I didn’t realize it weren’t fancy-dress.”  
Laura waved her excuses away. “Well I think you look fantastic. You can always kick your heels off later if it gets it a bit rowdy, can’t you?” 

“Oh I hope it does! And it’s bound to, innit, with an open bar?”   
“Say, er, Lizzie, did you happen to see James anywhere?” Lewis cut in, trying to make the question sound as casual as possible. 

Maddox winked at him, turning her head only slightly so it was out of sight of Laura. The moment passed, and she shrugged. “Uh, yeah, yeah, I think he said he was going out to the garden, last I saw him. I’m surprised he came at all, to be honest.” 

“Thanks. Erm, do you mind if I—?”   
Laura waved him off. “No, no, it’s alright. We girls will find something to talk about, you go and find him.” 

Lewis kissed her cheek, thanked Maddox again, and made his way towards the rear door, which looked out on CSI Innocent’s expansive back garden.


	2. Beginnings

He found Hathaway in the deep recesses of the garden, seated on a little wooden bench swing. Night had officially fallen, and someone has switched on all the fairy lights; they twinkled and gleamed, scattered in the hedges and wrapped around the trees, making everything look like Christmas in the middle of May. 

It was dark enough out that he might’ve missed James in the dull light, save for the pulsating glow of a smoldering cigarette. The lanky detective was slouched low on the bench, legs outstretched, so that Lewis almost tripped over them in the dark. The hand holding the cigarette lay limp on the seat next to his hip; the other hand clutched the slender neck of a champagne bottle. 

As Lewis approached, Hathaway took a long drink from the bottle, sighed, and leaned his head against the seatback. 

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” Lewis sat down next to him, draping his arm across the back of the bench. “Somebody might think you were hiding out, sitting alone back here.” 

Hathaway flicked the cigarette to the ground, and stamped it out without looking. Exhaled smoke danced on the slight evening breeze, before it disappeared. “It was too loud inside. I needed the quiet.” 

Lewis studied the young inspector carefully. His face was flushed, his eyes half-closed, his words half-slurred. “And the champagne? Did that just happen on its own?”

Hathaway turned his head, smirking lazily. “It was an open bar. Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it.”   
Lewis shook his head. “That’s a relief, at least.” 

A long silence passed between them. The night around them settled in, held barely at bay by the fairy lights, casting the garden in a golden glow, like candlelight. Lewis stared out at the night, listening to the distant laughter of partygoers back at the house and wondering if Laura would come looking. 

At one point, James heaved himself back up into a sitting position, rocking the swing and waking Robert from his contemplation. After another swig from the bottle, Hathaway scooted closer, until their hips touched, and laid his head upon his old boss’s shoulder. 

“Is this alright?” he slurred. He cuddled himself in close, tucking his shoulder just about under Robert’s chin and laying his free hand flat just above Robert’s right knee. 

Lewis felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. His thoughts turned for a brief moment to Laura, how they’d never really said anything official, never actually said the word ‘dating’—was this wrong, after all? When he was very nearly the most unattached he’d ever been in his life? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure. 

Hathaway hummed low in his throat and turned his head, nuzzling his nose into the side of Lewis’ neck. The sensation sent a shockwave through Lewis hard enough to make him shiver, making the swing jump and rattle. Humming again, James pressed his lips to a spot just under Lewis’ jaw, and the old inspector heard himself gasp. 

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” whispered Hathaway, pecking a line of kisses along the underside of Lewis’ chin, all the way up to his ear. He shifted in his seat, dropping the empty bottle so it fell and shattered on the stone walk; this freed his other hand, which he used to hold himself steady, grasping tightly to the seatback on the other side of Lewis. Like this, he was very nearly seated in Lewis’ lap. 

Lewis’ hands shook, daring to press themselves gently at James’ back. “I- what? What do you mean, l-l-leave you?” 

James wriggled, slipping his leg between Lewis’ and bucking his hips slowly upwards, all the while planting kisses up and down the side of the older man’s neck. The bench swing creaked. 

“I mean, you’re going away. Your holiday. Six months, what am I supposed to do with myself for that long? Hmm?” 

Lewis felt his body slowly melting from James’ attentions, felt the friction stirred by that skinny leg slowly undulating between his own. Scarcely able to believe it was real, he slipped one hand underneath James’ jumper, under the tshirt, running his palm and fingers over soft, warm skin. 

Hathaway moaned, leaning into the touch as Lewis’ hand ran over his stomach, and up to his chest. He tilted his head back, rocking his hips a little faster and feeling Lewis squirm under him. 

“Touch them, please,” he hissed, dropping his head to look at Lewis; the retired inspector’s eyes looked glazed, but he knew what James meant, and obeyed. His hand slipped across James’ chest, until his fingers played over one of the silver rings. He ran the flat of his palm over the little pink nub of flesh once, twice. 

Hathaway moaned again, lowering his head slightly, bumping Lewis’ nose with his. 

Robert froze. He leaned his head away, and pulled his hands away from Hathaway’s body. “James, wait. Wait. Just stop, just for a minute.” 

Slowly, silently, Hathaway withdrew, slipping out from around Lewis and standing up. He looked down at Lewis, looking one step away from anger. 

Lewis sighed, running a hand through what remained of his hair and cursing quietly. His heart still raced, his chest still heaved. If he’d been standing, he wasn’t certain his legs would have been strong enough to hold him. 

“Just, wait a minute. I’m not—I’m not entirely sure I know what’s happening here, okay? We just need to, to think. Just for a minute.” 

Behind them, a door was swiftly opened and closed, letting a burst of music and laughter escape. Hathaway ignored it, standing with his hands on his narrow hips, expression stormy. 

With a groan, Lewis pulled himself to his feet, using one of the swing’s posts for support. With a short movement of his head, he indicated the darkness behind them. “A little more privacy, ay?”

Something a little bit brighter than fairy lights glittered in Hathaway’s eyes, and when Lewis turned and disappeared into the brush behind the swing, he followed in long strides. 

Once they’d gone a couple yards through the outermost limits of Innocent’s garden, Lewis stopped with his back to a tree, squinting in the dark. “James?” 

“Here.” 

Hathaway moves in the dark, nearly invisible in the total black until he’s standing inches away; his movements are clumsier than usual, his eyes are half-closed— Lewis can hear him breathing heavily. 

“Have you thought enough now?” James says, nearly in a whisper. Lewis can hardly find his voice, but suddenly he doesn’t need to.

Hathaway reaches up and slips a slender hand through Lewis’ hair, cradling the back of his head. He leans in, slowly, so slowly Lewis nearly begs him.

When James finally kisses him, Robert feels his legs shake; his hands come up from his sides and wrap around Hathaway’s waist, pulling him closer. James presses his other hand to Lewis’ cheek, pressing his palm gently to Lewis’ face. He moves his body closer, slipping easily between the older inspector’s legs, as before. He presses himself against Lewis, drawing a low moan from Robert’s mouth, and allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

Lewis can feel James’ tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own, and has the incredulous thought that he hasn’t done anything like this since he was a teenager. Feeling a bit braver now that they’re farther away from the party, he slides one hand up under James’ sweater again, running his fingers over his chest until he can feel the cold metal rings again; he plays over them, first one than the other. 

James trembles in his arms, pressing himself closer still until Lewis could feel the bark of the tree poking him through his suit jacket. He slides his other hand downward; after just a moment’s hesitation he slips his fingers under the waist of Hathaway’s jeans, then his whole hand; he cups James’ ass, and squeezes. 

James cries out, breaking the kiss, and laughs, breathless. He stumbles back, taking a hold of Lewis’ hand and pulling him with him. Startled, Lewis nearly trips, more or less falling into James’ arms, and embracing him again. 

“Oh, James.”

He feels Hathaway smile against his shoulder. When they separated again, the smile was still there. Those soft blue eyes were shining. 

They walked hand and hand out of the brush, and out of the garden, stopping again in the backlit brightness of the yard. 

Before they reach the door, before chaos and real life swallows them, James leans in and softly kisses the cup of Lewis’ ear. 

“Admit it,” he whispers. “You’re going to miss me very, very, very much.” 

Lewis smiles, and turns his head to kiss James’ sharp cheek. “Immeasurably.”


End file.
